


What Comes After

by pupeez4eva



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Bat Siblings, Batman Incorporated #8, Crossover, Damian's Death, Dick will always be Dami's big brother, Dimension Travel, Gen, Multiverse, batfam, daddy!Bats, even alternate versions of him
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2018-08-16 00:37:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8079982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pupeez4eva/pseuds/pupeez4eva
Summary: The last thing Damian remembers is being killed by the Heretic. Now he's stuck in an alternate universe, where Grayson is still Robin, and his father has no idea who he is. Meanwhile, back in his own world, his family continue to mourn their youngest member. Set after "Batman Incorporated #8" in the comics.





	1. Chapter One

When Damian woke up, he was all alone.

The room was unfamiliar, and he was curled up in a corner, his body lodged between a table and a sofa. His mind was a whirlwind of confusion, and as hard as he tried, he couldn't seem to figure out where he was, or how he gotten here.

He felt tired, and it felt like there's something lodged in his throat. He swallowed, but it didn't seem to go away, and in the end Damian just curled up tighter, and closed his eyes.

He tried to remember what had happened — had he been patrolling with his father? He felt a jolt of unease, and a sudden, panicked rush of thoughts — _if that was the case, where WAS his father, and how had he ended up here_ — and then he remembered.

_(The heretic, bones snapping, pain, mother, mother call him off, a sword going through him, I'm going to die, I'm going to die, father where are you — )_

Damian let out a small noise, half way between a sob and a whimper, and squeezed his eyes shut. No, no, he didn't _want_ to remember anymore. His hands went to his torso, and he almost expected to find it torn open, blood gushing from his body — and yet there was nothing. His body felt whole; there was no blood, no broken bones. He felt fine, he felt alive, and yet…he remembered dying.

_(…mother…call off your monster…)_

He felt sick. He felt so sick, and it was ridiculous, because he was _dead._ He had _died,_ he was sure of it — he'd _felt_ himself dying. And yet…he was here. Alive.

And alone.

Where was his father? Where was — _Grayson._ His brother had been there, hadn't he?

_(We were the best Richard. No matter what anyone thinks)_

Yes, Grayson — _Dick_ — had been there. And he'd…Damian screwed up his face, struggling to think, and then felt a rush of panic. He remembered his brother lying on the floor, still, lifeless, and once again felt bile rising in his throat.

Was Grayson dead? Was that why he was here, all alone? Had the Heretic killed his brother — had he killed his _father?_ Because surely Bruce would have come for them, because he was Batman, and Batman would _never_ simply leave them — and even if Damian was a failure, Father would _never_ leave Grayson, because Grayson was the best of them all, everything Damian wasn't —

Damian's eyes opened, and they felt heavy. He sat up, his head throbbing, and glanced around. Yes, the room was completely unfamiliar. He sat, his back against the wall, and tried to ignore his screaming thoughts _— Grayson is dead, Father is dead, you are all alone, you died, MOTHER killed you, she hates you, your own mother hates you —_ and tried to focus on his surroundings. It was hard; every ounce of Damian wanted to sit back down, and go to sleep. He just wanted to stop _thinking._

He stood up shakily, and briefly glanced down. He almost expected to see a gaping wound in his torso, even though he'd already checked before. But there was nothing there. He wasn't wearing his suit either — he'd been wearing it before, when he'd…died. He was certain of that.

Damian took a few tentative steps forward, and glanced warily around the room. Not a room he recognised from his childhood in the League of Assassins, he noted with slight relief. Right now, he didn't know what he'd do if he came face to face with his mother. All he could think of was the Heretic — she'd _cloned_ him. And that clone had _killed_ him. Had she ordered it? Had she been watching, as he'd pleaded with her? As he'd died?

_(Yes. Yes, she hated him, she'd put a bounty on his head, she'd wanted him dead. His mother hated him, his father probably thought he was a failure, if he was even alive anymore — Grayson, Grayson didn't think he was a failure, but he would now, if he was alive, if the Heretic hadn't killed him — )_

If Damian had been in a better frame of mind, he would have heard the footsteps approaching. And he _definitely_ would have berated himself for failing to do so. As it was, he was struggling to understand exactly what had happened to him, and could only think of his father, his family, of _dying_ — and didn't realise there was anyone else there until:

"Alright — no idea who you are, but you _DEFINITELY_ shouldn't be here."

His head snapped up, eyes wide, and felt his stomach drop at the sight of a familiar costume. There were differences; the hood was gone, the colours were slightly different. But it was undoubtedly a Robin costume.

Which meant that was a _Robin_ standing in front of him.

 


	2. Chapter Two

Dick wasn't sure how the boy had gotten into Mount Justice. Even if there was some way for him to gain access inside, he'd like to think that one of them would have heard him. Superboy, at the very least; Conner did have enhanced hearing after all. But none of them did, and Dick wasn't sure how long the boy had been there before they'd found him.

The day had started off fairly normal. They'd completed a mission for the League, which had been fairly easy, and had ended fairly quickly. They'd returned to Mount Justice, and had been lounging around, doing nothing overly interesting. Artemis and Wally had been arguing, M'gann had been baking cookies, and Conner had been watching static. Again — nothing unusual.

Then Dick had gotten up to use the bathroom, because when you sat down doing nothing for hours, it did wonders for your bladder. He'd left the room, and that was when he'd run into the kid.

He was standing against a wall, looking small, and pale, and frightened — and Dick probably would have noticed these things more if he wasn't focused on the fact that there was an unknown person in Mount Justice. He stiffened, his eyes narrowing, and said, "alright — no idea who you are, but you _DEFINITELY_ shouldn't be here."

He took on a defensive stance as the boy turned towards him. His face — which already had a pallor to it, despite his darker skin tone — seemed to pale further as he stared at Dick, his eyes wide. His hands clenched at his sides, and he swallowed, but didn't say anything.

"How did you get in here?" Dick demanded, taking a step forward. He could hear footsteps behind him — his team had probably heard the commotion. "Because, you know, breaking in is _really_ not the most asterous thing to do. You could have knocked."

The boy said nothing, but continued to stare at Dick. His eyes seemed to be roaming over Dick's costume. Maybe he'd recognised him as Robin.

"Who is that?" Dick turned slightly, and saw his team gathered behind him in the doorway. It was Wally who had spoken, and he was staring at the boy with a suspicious look in his eyes.

Dick turned back, and took the time to examine the boy. He wasn't moving, and didn't seem like he'd be doing so anytime soon. And the more he looked at him, Dick just didn't get the sense that he was a threat. It wasn't just the fact that the boy looked even younger than Dick had first assumed — he couldn't have been older than ten — but there was a look in his eyes that made him seem almost fragile. It was as if something terrible had happened to him, and the boy had yet to come to terms with it.

It reminded him of himself, on that awful day at the circus, all those years ago. Dick shifted uncomfortably.

"He's a kid," Artemis muttered, frowning. "He looks, what, nine? Ten?"

She'd spoken loud enough for the boy to hear, but other than a slight tightening around his mouth, he didn't reply.

"Hey kid!" Conner called, "how did you get in here?" He didn't sound happy at all, but if the boy picked up on that, he didn't react to it. He stood there, unmoving, his eyes on Dick. Dick shifted, and turned his gaze away. This situation was making him feel more than a little uncomfortable.

"How the hell did the kid get in here?" Artemis hissed.

"No idea," Dick muttered back. "I walked in here, and found him standing here."

"He looks so young," M'gaan murmured, her brow furrowed. "Do you think his parents know he's here?"

Kaldur's eyes narrowed. "I'm more worried about how he _got_ here." He straightened, and walked over to the boy. Dick, and the rest of the team, watched with curiosity.

"What's your name?" Kaldur asked the kid, who glared back. It was the strongest response he'd had thus far. Kaldur frowned, but pressed on. "How did you get in here?"

"Do you know where you are?" M'gaan added.

The boy remained silent.

Conner let out an annoyed huff. "This is going nowhere. We should call the League."

They glanced back at the kid, who remained completely unresponsive to Kaldur's inquiries. There was a hollowness to his gaze, which seemed completely out of place on someone as young as he looked.

"Conner's right" he said, nodding his head. "I'll contact Batman — "

At that, the boy's head snapped up. His eyes widened, and looked almost crazed.

_"No!"_ he yelled.

They all stared.

It was the first time the boy had really said anything. He now stood panting, fists tightly clenched at his sides, with something akin to desperation on his face.

"…So," Wally muttered, when the silence dragged on "he _does_ speak."

...

Since he'd arrived at his father's home, and since he'd been introduced to his 'brothers', Damian had always viewed Jason Todd as a complete imbecile. In Damian's opinion, he was just like Drake, a cheap, inferior knock of; a futile attempt of Father's to find another partner as good as Grayson.

Batman's blood ran through Damian's veins. It was something none of the others would ever have. Yet Grayson — Grayson had been the first, and Grayson would always hold a special place in his father's heart because of that. Todd, Drake, they would never be true sons of Bruce Wayne, nor would they ever succeed Grayson, because Grayson had come _first._

When Damian had first met Todd, he'd held a firm opinion that the older man let these facts get the better of him. He was filled with jealousy and hatred for a situation, which, in Damian's opinion, had existed from the moment Todd had entered the family. Yet he allowed his anger, his fury at being replaced by Drake, and Batman's failure to avenge him, to consume him entirely.

Damian had always thought Todd inferior because of this; but in this moment, he completely understood that feeling of rejection and betrayal.

He didn't feel anger though. He didn't feel the rush of rage and indignation, that had drove Todd to become the Red Hood, and fuelled his hatred for Batman. Instead, all Damian felt was a strange hollowness, and a sense of inevitability.

Because, had he truly thought he was different from the rest? That, just because he was a Wayne, the true son of Batman, his father loved him, _respected_ him, more than he did the others? It didn't matter who he was, because he'd always be an assassin; a ticking time bomb, who may follow the rules as best he could, but would ultimately return to the lifestyle he knew best.

Maybe that was the reason he'd disliked Todd and Drake so much; he'd known that, ultimately, he'd always be a failure, a disappointment worse than Todd — because while father would always love Todd for the boy he'd once been, Damian had been a mistake from the start.

And so, as he stared at the boy in front of him — and the suit had slight altercations, as if it'd disguise the fact that Damian had been _replaced_ — he didn't feel hatred for his father, or desperate need for revenge. Instead all he felt as hatred for himself, because he'd always known this would happen, and it was no one's fault but his own. He was the failure; Mother knew it, Father knew it, his brothers knew it, and now, finally, he knew it — _accepted_ it — too.

There were more of them now — Damian recognised Drake's friend, the clone, and a red-haired boy — Allen? He didn't recognise the others. They were asking him questions, and Damian just _didn't care._ He just wanted to find a way out of this place. He didn't know where he'd go, because Father obviously didn't want him anymore, and Mother…he could never go to her, ever again.

"What's you're name?" one of them asked. Damian remained silent. The clone knew who he was, and so did Allen.

"How did you get in here?"

Damian ignored the questions, and searched desperately for an exit. He needed to get _out._ There were too many of them, all staring at him, and _talking,_ and he just needed to go. He couldn't be here, standing with his replacement, and _Drake's_ friends. He felt a spike of terror at the realisation that Drake could be here, in this very building, and suddenly that was the last thing Damian wanted. Drake would laugh at him, would tell him that this was exactly what he deserved. Or perhaps he'd yell, and demand why Damian hadn't stayed dead, when so many better, more deserving people had.

"We should call the League," he vaguely heard the replacement say, and then: "I'll contact Batman — "

Damian felt like he'd been doused with icy water. His head snapped up, and he stared at the group with wide, horrified eyes.

_"No!"_ he cried. They couldn't do that. He couldn't see his father, and the look of disappointment he'd inevitably have…no, no, he had to get out of here, he needed to _get away —_

"Hey," the replacement said, taking a step forward, his hands raised. "Look, they'll…help you, okay? You shouldn't be here — "

_'I know that!'_ Damian wanted to scream. He knew he shouldn't be here, he should be _dead,_ dead like his mother wanted, dead like his father wanted, dead like Grayson wanted —

The boy was talking faster now, his voice rising in volume. " — look, you don't need to be scared, they won't hurt you — "

_"No!"_ he said again, desperately. "I — tell me how to get out of here, and I'll go! I don't know _how_ I got here!"

They were all staring at him now, as if he were insane. Damian didn't care.

"Please," he said, his voice quieter now, yet still desperate (and how pathetic was that? Pleading with the person his father had replaced him with).

The boy looked conflicted. "I — look, I can't just…" He stared at Damian for a moment, and then sighed. "Let's just — talk about this okay? I can't promise you I won't call the League but — just tell us how you got here, alright?"

Damian wanted to say no. He didn't want to stay here, and talk to them; he wanted to leave. He spared a glance at Allen and the clone, to see if they'd said anything — _surely_ they knew that he'd _died_ didn't they? Why weren't they _saying_ anything? — but they looked just as shocked and confused. Damian felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him, and couldn't find it within himself to argue or bargain. He was tired. He just wanted this to be over.

_(He wanted to go home, he wanted Pennyworth's cookies, he wanted Grayson to hug him, he wanted his father to tuck him into bed — no, no, NO, stop — )._

"Fine," Damian said quietly.

...

Dick should have argued with the younger boy. They had no idea who he is — for all they knew, he could be dangerous, and until they knew who he was, having him around Mount Justice was a _bad_ idea.

But the kid looked so _young,_ and he seemed genuinely terrified. And Dick just didn't get the sense that he was dangerous. When he'd started pleading with them, Dick just didn't have it in himself to say no. He glanced behind him, to see how his team were reacting. While none of them seemed particularly thrilled with his decision, they weren't arguing with him either.

The boy stared at him uncertainly for a moment, and then walked forward. Dick stared at him, and decided that he'd talk to the kid first, find out how he'd ended up here, and who he was. He'd focus on calming him down first, and then he'd call the League. There — that was a good solution, right?

**...**

**AN:**

**So, next chapter is up! Just a few things I want to clarify - Damian is referring to Wally as 'Allen', because he doesn't know it's Wally West, and Tim and Conner are both friends with Bart Allen (who has red hair).**

**The next chapter will focus more on interactions with Damian and the YJ members, and might include the Justice League (although I'm not 100% sure of that yet).**

**The comic-verse Batfam will also be making their first appearance after a few more chapters.**

**Hopefully you enjoyed this! I know a lot of it was Damian's internal monologue, but I wanted to depict him processing the entire situation, before I jumped into the proper interactions. Tell me what you think! :)**


	3. Chapter Three

Damian could feel the Replacement's eyes on him, but he refused to look up. He didn't think he could stand to look at that costume — the physical representation of his failure — for a moment longer without truly snapping. Instead, he stared at his clenched hands, and focused on keeping his breathing slow and even.

" — so you see kid, the League would actually _help_ and — er…"

Damian closed his eyes. _'Ignore him. Just ignore him. Pretend he isn't there. He's not there…'_

"Rob, this isn't working," he heard someone say. "Lets just call the League, okay? They can deal with him."

"KF, seriously, he's upset, and we did say — "

"Yeah but the kid said he'd talk, and so far, he hasn't told us anything."

Damian twitched slightly. Yes, he'd told them he'd tell them what had happened, but…he couldn't bring himself to do it. Speaking to them meant accepting what had happened, and trying to sort through the mess of confusion clouding his mind. He couldn't do that. He wasn't _ready_ to do that. And besides, it's not like he could help them. He didn't know how he'd ended up here. He couldn't give them the answers they wanted.

"Um, is he okay? Hey, kid, are you — "

"Robin, I don't think he's alright," one of them said. A female voice, soft, uncertain. Not like the one that had spoken a few moments ago. "Um, maybe it'd be a good idea if we _did_ call someone."

Damian glanced up. The group was staring at him, curious, concerned, and in some cases, annoyed. The Replacement looked like he wasn't sure what to do.

"Hey," he said, his voice soft. Damian felt a twinge of annoyance. "I get that you're upset, but we can't just let you stay here. You need to tell us how you got here, okay?"

Damian stared back, keeping his expression blank.

"Rob, he's not going to say anything," one of them — _Allen_ , Damian thought, his gaze flickering briefly to Drake's friend.

He felt a surge of annoyance, so sudden it surprised him. He'd mostly felt numb for the past hour or so, and had fought hard to maintain that. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than the swirl of pain, confusion and misery.

If Drake's friends were going to sit here and pretend that they didn't know him, then why should he have to go along with it?

"No," he said.

They turned back to him.

"What?" The Replacement asked, leaning forward. He looked eager to have finally gotten a response out of Damian. Damian felt his fists clench.

"I said no. I'm not telling you anything."

The Replacement sat back, looking frustrated. "Hey, that's not fair. I said we wouldn't call the League if you told us how you got here."

"I don't _know_ how I got here." He glared at them. The numbness was fading somewhat, and while he still felt the misery and hurt and confusion from earlier, there was also anger. He latched onto that, because he _knew_ how to be angry. It was familiar, something he'd used as a default emotion for most of his life. "Just let me leave."

They exchanged glances. "We can't do that," the Replacement said at last. Obviously he'd taken on the leadership role here. "You kind of just showed up here, and this place…well it's supposed to be a secret."

Damian ignored him, his attention elsewhere. His gaze had been drifting, taking in the other members of the group, and he'd noticed, much to his surprise and confusion, that the Speedster in front of him wasn't Bart Allen after all. The height was off, as well as the hair — more brown than the bright red he'd initially mistaken it for.

_'What?'_

"Hey," not-Allen said, looking slightly annoyed. "What are you staring at?"

"Who are you?" Damian asked.

Not-Allen snorted. "That's what we want to know."

"Damian," he snapped. Not a hint of recognition, not even from the Replacement. Had no one mentioned his name before? ( _'Why would they mention a failure's name?'_ ). "My name is Damian. Now, who are you?"

"I'm Kid Flash," not-Allen said.

Damian studied him for a moment, taking in all the differences. No, not Bart Allen. Just something else to add to the list of things that didn't make sense.

The speedster shuffled uncomfortably under Damian's gaze.

"Uh, Damian," the Replacement interjected. "So, I know you didn't want us to call the League — "

"Which is pretty suspicious if you ask me," Kid Flash muttered.

" — but I seriously think they could help. You don't need to be scared of them. And hey, I bet you're a fan of some of them right? Superman? Wonder Woman? Or hey, Batman's pretty — "

Damian twitched, and glanced away. His gaze met Superboy's. The clone was staring at him with a frown on his face, and Damian felt the annoyance remerge.

"You know who I am," he said, cutting off the Replacement's rambling. The group fell silent, all staring at him in confusion. "He knows who I am," Damian repeated, glaring at him.

Because maybe Kid Flash wasn't who he thought he was, but there was no doubt that this was the clone. He looked just like him.

"Wait, you _know_ him?" said one of them, a blonde haired girl.

"No." The clone frowned. "I've never seen him before."

What _was_ this? Damian wanted to snap at him, to say he knew _exactly_ who he was, that Damian had been _Robin_ , and Superboy knew that — how could he not, when he was best friend's with Damian's brother?

_'Maybe they set this up, the two of them, Drake and the clone. Maybe…maybe Drake is here, maybe he's laughing at me, maybe Father and Grayson are here too, maybe — '_

_'Shut up. SHUT UP, dammit.'_

"Hey? Kid?" The Replacement looked uncertain. "Uh…you okay?"

"I seriously think we should call the League," Kid Flash said. A few members of the group nodded in agreement. The Replacement continued to stare at him, looked uncertain. "Rob? Come on, something is seriously wrong with this kid."

"Hey." The Replacement's voice was soft and concerned. "You really don't know how you got here?"

_'He doesn't know who I am,'_ Damian thought. _'None of them do.'_ This wasn't some show to torment him. Despite everything, he could see that their confusion was genuine.

Damian looked at the Replacement, and then at the others— not-Allen, the clone who apparently didn't recognise him, and the rest of the group, who, he realised, were not Drake's group of friends after all — and realised that he had absolutely no idea what was going on.

What had happened?

_'I died. Mother killed me.'_

Yes, that had happened. It had to have happened. He could still feel the Heretic's sword, and remember the apathetic expression on his mother's face. There was no way he'd imagined that.

So he'd died. And somehow ended up here. But that didn't explain anything. Why didn't the clone recognise him? And what had happened to Allen and the rest of Drake's group of friends? Had this new Robin formed his own team, apart from the Titans? And perhaps…the clone had joined him?

_'No, that still doesn't explain why he doesn't recognise me.'_

"We're not calling the League," the Replacement was saying. Damian's head snapped up. "We'll wait for him to calm down first, okay?"

Damian stared at him for a moment, a frown on his face. The Replacement looked uncertain, and none of the others looked happy with his decision. Damian glanced away, and closed his eyes. He didn't want to think about this anymore. What he really wanted was to curl up and go to sleep. He wanted to clear his mind, even for a few hours, because nothing made sense anymore, and the confusion felt oppressive.

All he did know was that he did _not_ want to see his father. He didn't think he could stand seeing the disappointment on his face. Damian had failed him, and then, he'd had the gall to come back. Maybe Father would let him stay, perhaps out of misplaced guilt, or a perceived sense of responsibility, but that wouldn't change how he felt. Damian didn't think he could live with the knowledge that he'd well and truly lost his father, along with all the progress they'd made in their relationship.

Or maybe, just maybe, his father wouldn't recognise him. The clone hadn't. Maybe something had happened. Maybe his death had…well. Damian didn't know _what_ , but something was wrong. At least, if his father didn't know who he was, Damian wouldn't have to deal with the anger and disappointment.

Either way, he'd lost him.

"So," the Replacement said, leaning forward and smiling widely. "How does that sound? You can hang out here for a bit and…see if you remember anything."

"Fine," Damian muttered. Apparently talking to these people kept them at least momentarily appeased, judging from the widening grin on the Replacement's face.

"Rob, this is a _bad_ _idea."_

Well, at least it worked with one of them. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo…this took me a ridiculously long time to update. SO sorry about that, but I had major writers block, and no matter how hard I tried to come up with a plan for this story, it just wouldn't work. Finally I have managed to map out the next few chapters, and a brief outline for the rest of the story, and I feel like I am finally up for writing this thing. Hopefully this chapter is okay, and once again, I am sorry for making you guys wait so long. The next chapter will definitely not take as long because I do know what I want to write now.
> 
> I just want to thank everyone who's continued to support this story and leave lovely comments, because it kept me motivated to eventually get this done. Hope you continue to enjoy this story!


	4. Chapter Four

“Rob, there is something seriously wrong with that kid.”

 

Dick sighed and shook his head. Okay, yeah, he agreed with Wally — there was something very wrong here. The kid — Damian — had appeared out of nowhere, didn’t seem to know how he had got there in the first place, and this whole situation probably warranted a call to the League. 

 

For some reason, Dick just couldn’t bring himself to do that. The boy had just seemed so desperate _,_ and so vulnerable, and there was just something about him that made Dick want to protect him. It was stupid and he should know better than to take risks like this. Calling the League and telling them everything would probably be the best course of action, but when he remembered the genuine fear on Damian’s face, he couldn’t bring himself to do so.

 

The rest of the team didn’t seem nearly as eager. M’gaan was trying her best, but Dick could tell that the other’s were uncomfortable with the whole situation. 

 

“Look at what he’s _wearing_ though,” Wally muttered, frowning in the kid’s direction. 

 

Okay, Dick had to admit, Damian’s outfit was just plain _strange._ The all-white, almost robe-like outfit, the white bandages wrapped along his arms…he’d been so focused on what the kid was doing there and how upset he looked that he’d initially just brushed it off.

 

Dick tried to hide his uncertainty. He should really do something about this…maybe, at the very least, just _mention_ it to Batman. He glanced back at Damian. The kid was sitting on the couch, staring at the wall with a blank expression. His body was tense, his hands clenched at his sides.

 

Dick closed his eyes and bit back a sigh. He’d give Damian some time, like he promised, and he’d try and get him to talk. If that didn’t work, he’d get the League involved.

 

“I made cookies!” M’gann announced, walking into a room and holding a tray of crispy, clearly burnt cookies. “Who wants some?” 

 

No one replied, but all of them eyed the tray with more than a little alarm. 

 

“Do you want cookies?” M’gann asked, smiling at Damian.

 

“They look disgusting,” Damian said flatly.

 

M’gann flushed slightly, and ducked her head slightly. Connor sat up, his expression darkening. “Hey!”

 

“It’s okay!” M’gann said hurriedly, shaking her head. “I don’t mind, really!”

 

Connor continued to glare at Damian. “She was just being nice to you!”

 

Damian’s expression remained blank, and he shrugged slightly. Connor continued to glare at him, while the room descended into awkward silence. M’gann shuffled uncomfortably, looking unsure of what to do with herself and the tray she was holding. After a moment she walked over to the group, and set the tray down on the table. 

 

“Rob…” Wally muttered.

 

Dick sighed. “Knock it off, KF.” 

 

“Can I use the bathroom?” 

 

The group turned back to Damian, and no one replied for a moment. Damian simply stared at them, not seeming particularly bothered by the silence.

 

“Of course!” M’gann said at last, her words a little high-pitched and rushed. “Here, I’ll show you where it is — ”

 

Damian followed after her, his head slightly lowered, his expression still blank. The group watched in silence as he disappeared around the corner.

 

“We’re all walking on eggshells around that kid,” Artemis said, once Damian was out of sight. “We need a plan.”

 

“I know.”

 

“We can’t just let him hang around here forever.”

 

 _“I know!”_ Dick glared. _“_ Guys, just give him a break, okay? He’s scared — am I the only one who sees that?!” 

 

“I understand where you are coming from,” Kaldur said calmly, “but he appeared out of nowhere and refuses to tell us anything. We need to be careful.”

 

“I know that, guys,” Dick said. And God, he _knew_ this probably wasn’t the best idea, but…there was just something about that kid that made it hard for him to say no. And besides, it’s not like the team _had_ to listen to him. He just really, really hoped they did. “He’s terrified. I think we can give him a bit of a break, can’t we?”

 

That’s all it was. This was only temporary. Dick would do his best to get Damian to talk, and if he kept refusing…well, they’d have to tell someone. But that was a problem he could deal with later on.

 

“He could be a really good actor,” Connor said, but seemed more or less resigned to the situation.

 

Dick just really hoped he wasn’t wrong about this.

 

…

 

In the safety of the bathroom, Damian could finally have some room to assess the situation and _think._ His mind was a whirring mess, and nothing about any of this made sense. He didn’t know who those people were. He didn’t know who the replacement was. He didn’t know why no one knew who he was, or where his family had gone. Everything was a mess, and his head throbbed painfully when he tried to piece it all together.

 

He walked over to the sink and turned on the tap, letting the water flow into the basin. He glanced at the mirror. He looked terrible. His face looked pale and drawn, and there were dark circles under his eyes. The white outfit was unfamiliar as well. When he’d…died, he’d been wearing his suit. The Heretic had stabbed him…his hands travelled to his torso again, even though he knew nothing would be there. 

 

He wondered what would happen if he tore through the white fabric to see what was underneath. Would he find his suit hidden underneath, with a gaping hole in the middle from where the sword had struck him? Would it still be stained with his blood…he’d been injured badly, and there had to have been a lot of blood, right? Would it still be there, proof that he had died, proof of what his own mother had done to him — 

 

His realised his hands were clenched almost painfully around the edges of the basin, and he relaxed his grip. He was shaking. He closed his eyes, breathing in deeply. His outfit felt constricting, and he wondered what would happen if he asked for a change of clothing. He knew none of them trusted him, and while that didn’t particularly bother him, he didn’t want to push them. What if they told someone about him? What if he was forced to face some strange, imposter Batman…or worse, what if his _father_ came…? Damian shook his head and bit back a whimper. He couldn’t stay here. He needed to think of a way to get out.

 

He reached down and splashed some water onto his face. He glanced at the door, his chest feeling tight and uncomfortable. Maybe he could just stay in here for a while. If he went back there they were going to start pushing him to talk again, and whisper about him every time his back was turned. What did it matter if he took the cowards way out? He was a failure anyway.

 

He shook his head, and forced himself to walk to the door. Maybe he’d messed up in the worst way possible, but was that really an excuse to fall even further? He needed to go out there and figure out what was happening. And then he could leave. And then…well, he didn’t know what he’d do after that, but it wasn’t like this was the first time he’d been alone. He just needed to remind himself of that. 

 ****

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! So here’s the next chapter :) And…I have absolutely no idea what Damian was wearing post-resurrection. In some pics it looks like he’s got his suit on underneath. In some it looks like he’s got some weird white robe on. In some it looks like he’s wrapped in bandages. So…I’m just going to stick with this version of how I remembered it haha. Doesn’t really affect the story anyway, other than giving you a bit of a hint about Damian’s circumstances…
> 
> Anyway hopefully you enjoyed this and tell me what you think! :)


	5. Chapter Five

“So…”

 

“Don’t even say it, KF.”

 

“Oh come _on_ Rob.” Wally slouched back against the sofa, scowling. “The kid’s gone and holed himself up in your room, and no one’s seen him in the past hour. Who knows what he’s doing in there!”

 

Dick shrugged. “He’s probably sleeping or something. Just leave him alone.” 

 

When Damian had finally left the bathroom (walking back into the room with no warning, and standing quietly by the doorway, going unnoticed for several seconds while the team continued to argue about him), he’d barely spent ten minutes with them before asking if he could borrow some clothes.

 

Since the rest of the team seemed happy with just standing around and staring at the kid, Dick had decided to step up. He’d had some clothes stashed somewhere in his room, and he was pretty sure they wouldn’t be too big on Damian. He’d shown Damian to his room, and told him he could change in there and come out whenever he was ready.

 

An hour later and Damian still hadn’t left the room.

 

“We are going to be _so_ dead when the League finds out.”

 

_“KF!”_

 

“He’s right though,” Artemis interjected. “They are _not_ going to be happy with this. And we can’t just let the kid stay here forever.”

 

“And we don’t _want_ to let the kid stay here forever,” Wally added, ignoring Dick’s glare. 

 

“One more day,” Dick said. He thought about Damian, his initial hysteria, and the way he was now — quiet, blank, almost like someone had drained the life out of him — and felt his stomach clench slightly. He wasn’t even sure how to get rid of the kid, who obviously didn’t want to go home. Was it safe for him? What if he was in danger? What if his parents had been hurting him? Dick couldn’t just let the kid go, not knowing what would happen to him. 

 

He groaned and fell back against the couch, ignoring his team’s questioning looks. No, sending the kid away without knowing the whole story was a disaster waiting to happen (heavy on the dis). He’d have to tell Bruce, whether Damian wanted him to or not. 

 

“When you say ‘one more day’,” Wally said, “do you mean you’re letting him stay here tonight?” 

 

Connor stiffened. “What?” Well, fair enough — it'd be Connor and M’gann left here when the rest of them left Mount Justice. Dick could tell that his friend wasn’t happy about that. M’gann seemed more of less fine, though, if her, “Oh, I should make him some milk and cookies before bed!” was any indication.

 

Dick shrugged, shooting Connor a sheepish grin. “It’s just one night.”

 

Connor scowled. “He’s staying _here?”_

 

“Do you think he likes chocolate chip cookies?” M’gann asked.

 

Artemis considered this for a brief second and then shook her head. “No.” 

 

“Can’t you take him home with you?” 

 

Dick bit back a snort. He could imagine how _that_ would go. Bruce would not be happy, would interrogate the kid, and Damian would probably end up having another panic attack.

 

Not to mention, he’d probably be grounded. And Alfred might withhold dessert.

 

… _Not_ that that was the most important thing, of course, but there were _a lot_ of things that would go wrong if he took Damian home with him.

 

“He’s not coming with me,” Wally said quickly. “Although you guys go ahead.”

 

No one said anything. 

 

Dick shrugged. “Well, looks like he’s staying here.”

 

Connor’s scowl deepened, and M’gann clapped her hands together, smiling. Well, at least _someone_ seemed to have warmed up to Damian. 

 

…

 

This was starting to get _really_ annoying. What Damian needed right now was to think of a plan; he needed to figure out what was going on, and then be on his way before his father or any of his family found out he was here.

 

On any other day he would’ve been able to do that. Damian was _good_ with strategising. He was his father’s son, after all. Right now, nothing seemed to be working. His head felt like it’d been stuffed with cotton, and the longer he sat here, the more he felt the urge to just fall asleep and forget about everything.

 

He’d long since changed into different clothes, and that didn’t make him feel as good as he’d hoped he would. It was nice to be out of that strange white garment, but it didn’t change the fact that he was wearing the new Robin’s clothing. It was bad enough that he’d been replaced, but this was just making things even worse. He was wearing the Replacement’s clothing, sitting in the Replacement’s room — he shifted uncomfortably and shook his head. 

 

Don’t think about that. Focus on getting out. His family could have this new Robin (who was cheerful, and friendly, and considerate, and everything that Grayson would probably love in a little brother), and he’d start a new life. He didn’t need family. They were more trouble than they were worth.

 

(They caused more pain that they were worth).

 

The suffocating despair had eased slightly, but that had only made room for the beginnings of anger. Damian still wasn’t sure _who_ he was angry at — his family? Himself? He was mad at Grayson, who’d always told him he’d always be there for him, but had abandoned him at the first chance he’d got. He was mad at Father, because he thought they were actually getting closer — maybe he’d never see Damian the way he saw the others, as a son who could actually be _forgiven_ for his mistakes, but maybe he didn’t _hate_ Damian anymore, and that was enough.

 

He was mad at Drake and Todd because now he knew how they’d felt, and he he didn’t _want_ to be like them. He’d always thought he was _better_ than them. In the end, all he’d been was the only child his father had never really wanted, and the child he’d gotten rid of the first chance he’d got.

 

He was mad at _himself_ for feeling this way. What right did he have to be angry at Grayson and Father? He was the one who had failed. Grayson had been hurt because of him. Mother hadn’t just hurt him, she’d attacked his family, his home, and Damian, for all his talk about being better than his predecessors, hadn’t even been able to stop her.

 

He had _no_ right to feel anything but disgusted with himself.

 

_‘You’re useless, broken, and now everyone knows it. They’re probably laughing at you — not Grayson, he’d never be petty enough to do that, no matter how much you deserve it. But Todd, Drake, Gordon, Brown — maybe even Cain, Father and Pennyworth…’_

 

He shook his head. He needed to remind himself that this wasn’t just about getting away from here. It was definitely on his list of priorities — _high_ on that list, because he couldn’t imagine staying here, with these people, for much longer — but he also needed to figure out what had happened, and why everything seemed so strange and different. 

 

_‘All in good time. Right now, just focus on getting your head straight. You’re no good like this. Do you WANT To mess up again?’_

 

There was a knock on the door. Damian’s head snapped up.

 

“Damian? Uh, can I come in?” 

 

The Replacement. Damian shifted uncomfortably and didn’t reply.

 

“Uh…so I’m just going to walk in okay? Unless you’re changing, because I really don’t think you’d want me doing that. Kid? Damian?”

 

Oh God, Grayson would _love_ him. He was like a mini, more annoying version of him.

 

“Come in,” he said, if only to shut him up.

 

The door opened a moment later, and the Replacement walked in, looking sheepish.

 

“Hey — I just want to say that you can take as much time as you like in here.”

 

“I am,” Damian said flatly.

 

“…Yeah. Well anyway, it’s getting kind of late, so we’re probably going to head back soon? Superboy and Miss M will still be here though, so if you need anything, you can just ask them. You can stay here tonight, everyone’s fine with it — ”

 

He doubted it. The others looked like they couldn’t wait to get rid of him.

 

“ — and we can figure out what we’re going to do tomorrow, okay? Don’t worry, we haven’t called the League or anything.”

 

 _Yet._ Damian wasn’t an idiot — it was only a matter of time. Hopefully he’d be long gone by then though.

 

“So anyway, yeah,” The Replacement said, smiling in a way that seemed just a tad too forced (he did a pretty good job though, Damian had to give him that. He probably did a great job at recreating Grayson’s old glory days as Robin), “if you need to talk about anything, I’m here.”

 

He hesitated, and Damian bit back a sigh.

 

“One last thing…you said you knew Superboy?” 

 

“I was mistaken.”

 

The Replacement (and maybe Damian would have to start referring to him as ‘Robin' eventually, but he was going to delay that for as long as possible) looked like he wanted to say something more, but then simply nodded his head, gave Damian another smile, and stepped out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

 

Damian let out a sigh and closed his eyes.

 

…

 

The alien was really starting to grate on his nerves.

 

She just wouldn’t _leave him alone._ He’d sat on the sofa for a while, pointedly ignoring the clone’s heated glare, but after a while he’d grown tired of it. Ignoring the clone was one thing — ignoring the alien (and Damian still wasn’t sure of her name…she’d introduced herself but he’d promptly forgotten. It didn’t matter too much anyway) and her incessant chatter was another thing all together.

 

In the end he’d left the room, and had walked back to the Replacement’s bedroom — he’d told him that he could stay there for the night, amongst a whole lot of other things that Damian hadn’t been paying attention to (along with some words that he was sure weren’t even part of the english language).

 

It didn’t help much, because it didn’t deter the alien from repeatedly knocking on his door and asking him if he wanted a drink, or if he wanted cookies, or if he needed her to show him where the bathroom was.

 

What he _needed_ was some peace and quiet so he could start figuring out what he was going to do. He obviously couldn’t stay here forever; he wasn’t foolish enough to think that they’d be keeping him around if it weren’t for the Replacement. How long before they either told him to leave, or contacted the League? He needed to leave as soon as he could — preferably the next morning, if he could figure out a plan for after he left. He obviously couldn’t go home, or back to his mother.

 

 _‘Stop thinking about that.’_ He had more important things to worry about that his housing arrangements. Something was obviously wrong here, beyond his family wanting nothing to do with him — most of the team was unfamiliar, and the ones that weren’t didn’t seem to know anything about Drake. Damian had to figure out what was going on, if only to make sense of the whole situation.

 

It’d be a lot easier to do that if the alien’s shrill voice didn’t keep interrupting his thoughts.

 

“Would you be _quiet?”_ he snarled. He’d been sitting on the bed, his back as straight as a rod, and his eyes closed. “It’s been a _long_ time since I’ve met someone as annoying as you, and I’ve had to deal with _Fat Girl.”_

 

Her smile faded and she blinked in obvious confusion and hurt.

 

Well. At least she might leave him alone now.

 

“Hey!” The clone came barreling into the room, and Damian bit back a sigh. Fat chance of that happening now. “What the hell’s your problem, huh? M’gann hasn’t done anything wrong!”

 

Oh right. M’gann. _That_ was her name.

 

“She won’t leave me alone,” Damian said, shrugging.  

 

 _“We_ let you stay here,” Superboy said, his eyes flashing dangerously. “We could’ve called the League. We’re doing you a favour, so just stop being so annoying!”

 

“Connor, it’s fine,” M’gann said, tugging his arm, her lips quirked in a small frown. “Let’s just go.”

 

Damian nodded. “Yes, please.”

 

 _“No.”_ Superboy glared. “Not until you apologise to her.” 

 

Damian’s jaw clenched. He didn’t have to apologise to _anyone._ He was tired, and he just wanted to figure out what he was going to the next day, and then get some much needed sleep. He just wanted to forget about all of this. Maybe, when he was finally able to go to sleep, all of it — Mother’s blank face, Grayson’s lifeless body, the Heretic’s sword rushing towards him — would go away, at least for a little while.

 

Or maybe it’d all just play out in his dreams in a never-ending loop.

 

“Apologise!” Superboy repeated. 

 

“Sorry,” Damian said, if only to shut him up. It seemed to work, because the anger faded, and was replaced by a look of confusion. The clone seemed genuinely surprised that he’d given in, and Damian had to force himself not to say something derisive. 

 

“It’s okay,” M’gann said, smiling. She then stood there, still smiling, while the clone stood next to her, his face scrunched up in a frown.

 

Dear lord, he didn’t think the clone could get anymore annoying, but he’d just managed it.

 

“Are you going to leave?” Damian asked, glancing pointedly at the door. Superboy’s scowl deepened, and he turned around and out of the room, with M’gann following close behind after one last smile at Damian.

 

They left the door open. 

 

Damian fell back against the bed and glared at the ceiling. 

 

  _…_

 

“ — and now he’s gone, he’s _GONE_ Bruce, because of your great idea — ”

 

Bruce could hear Dick’s furious screams, Tim’s desperate words — “Dick, stop, this isn’t fair, no one knew this would happen, we _all_ agreed” — and could see the way Jason and Barbara stared at him, seeming too shocked to do anything else.

 

He could see the disappointment in all of their eyes, more apparent in some (Dick’s), but present in all of them. 

 

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He’d really thought…he’d _believed_ that — that — 

 

“ — he’s gone, dammit, he’s — ”

 

“He was _already_ gone.”

 

His words came out small and choked, everything that he wasn’t supposed to be, but he might as well have yelled them with the way Dick stopped abruptly, staring at him with wide eyes, his chest heaving.

 

For a moment no one said anything. 

 

“At least I could have still visited him,” Dick said at last, his voice shaking. “Gone to his — ” The word _grave_ went unsaid, because it was still too painful, especially now that their hopes had been dashed so cruelly, “ — and…spoken to him. Spent some time with him — I could’ve…” He swallowed and shook his head. “But _you_ Bruce, you came in here, telling us we’d get him back, making me think — I thought — _I thought I’d get my little brother back!”_

 

 _‘I thought I’d get my son back,’_ Bruce thought numbly. 

 

He thought about the way he’d hugged Damian to his chest, the way it had reminded him of the last time he’d held his son (that awful, crushing moment when he’d felt how broken his son was, how Damian’s blood had slipped through his fingers), and how this time he’d been so sure that things would be different, and his pleas for Damian to do anything — to scowl at him, say something biting, or maybe smile at him in that way that he sometimes did when Bruce managed to catch him off guard — would actually be answered.

 

After all that time, there was finally something he could do. Giving up on Damian had never been an option. His little boy deserved a chance to grow up, surrounded by a family that loved him (and God, Bruce had promised himself that once Damian returned, he’d make sure he never doubted that love for a second). 

 

He’d been so sure that it would work. He had the chaos shard; he had his son’s body back; he had his entire family at his back, supporting his mission to bring Damian home.

 

It should have worked. Damian should have been back with them.

 

Instead, Damian had vanished, leaving Bruce to stare in horror at arms that had desperately cradled his son’s corpse only moments before.

 

Damian’s body was gone, and with it any hope of bringing him back. 

 

In the end they’d gotten out of there, barely, but all Bruce could think was that he’d failed. He failed Damian.

 

“You let me believe we’d be getting him back,” Dick said, his voice a mess of choked sobs and heavy breathing. _“Why?!”_

 

“Dick, stop,” Barbara said softly. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her cheeks stained with tears. “He didn’t know this would happen. None of us did.” 

 

She reached a hand towards him but he pulled away and stormed out of the room. Barbara hesitated and shot a glance at Bruce, but he waved her away.

 

“Just go,” he said stiffly. “All of you, go.” He couldn’t do this with all of them here.

 

They left without much convincing, all seemingly eager to get away from him. He briefly wondered if they all blamed him like Dick did, for getting their hopes up, for making them think they’d be bringing Damian home. It didn’t matter in the end though, because worrying about what everyone else thought wasn’t going to bring Damian back.

 

Bruce had lost his son. 

 

Again.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So…the comics!Batfam finally make an entrance! Basically, for anyone who is still confused, Bruce and the Batfam went through with the whole plan to use a chaos shard to bring Damian back (and I know Dick wasn’t present for this in the comics, but I needed Dick to be there so…let’s just pretend he was), but while it DID bring him back to life, he ended up in the YJ!Universe. Bruce, Dick and everyone else don’t know that Damian is still alive. 
> 
> (Also it’s been a while since I’ve read the Damian resurrection storyline, and to be honest the details aren’t hugely important to this story…but there might be things that dont add up to exactly what was in the comics, so sorry for that xD).
> 
> Anyway, I’ve FINALLY got this chapter out, and hopefully it was worth the wait. Thank you to everyone who has stuck by this story!


End file.
